


sugar & spice

by caravaggiosbrushes



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Genderqueer James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848), Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Modern Era, Nonbinary Character, OR IS IT, One Night Stands, Other, Rough Kissing, Sex, a salomè, bottom dundy too, eyes emoji, fierce jfj, i’d lose my mind for her, jfj in a dress, lots of flirting, non-binary james, pansexual dundy, srsly she’s like a femme fatale here, submissive dundy, the king-est of them all i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravaggiosbrushes/pseuds/caravaggiosbrushes
Summary: She’s gorgeous, but there‘s something else about her that makes Henry unable to tear his gaze away from her. Perhaps is the aura of self-confidence and power she seems to radiate as she walks over the bar in long strides, strong chin raised high as if ready to challenge the entire world.She looks fearless.He’s on his feet in a heartbeat.-modern au fitzconte, written for my Bingo prompt “Confession”
Relationships: James Fitzjames/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: The Terror Bingo, The Terror Bingo (2020)





	sugar & spice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! [ a wonderful mutual ](https://jurian-is-cinnamon-roll.tumblr.com/) left me this prompt [on tumblr](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com): “ _What if chaotic bisexual Dundy met crossdresser James in some bar and thought he's a woman. They start flirting and so on and James is anxious bc he might have had some unpleasant experiences in the past and what if this dude is a queerophobe, but it's Dundy, so he's really chill and he's like "you're a man? wow even better",_ so I wrote 4k about it.
> 
> The only thing I changed is that James is non-binary and uses she/her pronouns here and identifies herself as a woman (as a man too, but as a woman in the span of this fic). That's why I tagged this pairing as "Other". I also have both characters referring to James' genitalia in different ways (both cock/prick/dick as well as cunt).
> 
> Thank you Ewa for beta-reading and helping me with this!! & thank you [ John ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaCupcakes/pseuds/JennaCupcakes) for giving me your very helpful suggestions, support and shared love for this sexysexy Dundy ❤️ 
> 
> I’m using this for [ my Bingo prompt “ **Confession** ”](https://i.ibb.co/j8WrkYM/The-Terror-Bingo-caravaggiosbrushes-2nd-copia-copia.jpg).
> 
> Enjoy! 

_Here is a map with your name for a capital,_

_here is an arrow to prove a point (...)_

  
  


Henry notices her the moment she steps into the bar.

She’s breathtaking: dark haired and tall, impressively so, with her high heeled leather boots that end above her knees ( _God_ —) and her leopard print dress. She’s wearing it over a black lacy top that makes the entire look sophisticated. Her make-up is dark too, staying true to the maroon palette of her outfit. 

She’s gorgeous, but there’s something else about her that makes Henry unable to tear his gaze away from her. Perhaps is the aura of self-confidence and power she seems to radiate as she walks to the bar in long strides, strong chin raised high as if ready to challenge the entire world.

She looks fearless. 

He’s on his feet in a heartbeat.

"Have you already ordered a drink?” He asks in his most charming voice.

She startles a little, as if she wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her. Then, she seems to consider him for a long moment, her face (even more striking from up close, and fuck, she’s wearing _gloss_ ) goes through surprise, amusement and finally sets on an interested expression, a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"No." 

“Perfect, so I can get it for you.” Henry smiles confidently, “What are you having?”

“Nothing.”

Fuck. Maybe that wasn’t interest in her eyes, after all.

"Ah. I see—"

"Nothing if you don’t join me." She says, amused, one of her thick eyebrows arching up a little.

Cheeky. Henry is more than intrigued.

"I promise."

"Careful making promises to people you don't know," she says, “You could come to regret it.”

“I don't think there's anything about you that I could regret.”

She huffs a laugh behind her hand, looking at him from under long lashes.

“Are you always this flirty?” She asks.

“Are you always this charming?”

Her smile is priceless. She’s blushing a little. He very much wants to kiss her.

“Are you charmed by me?”

“Enchanted.” He says, leaning toward her, “Enraptured. Bewitched.”

She lowers her gaze on his lips, just for a second. _There_ , Henry thinks, _I got you._

She breaks eye contact and smiles, almost to herself.

“That drink you want to buy me,” she says, “Make it a Bloody Mary.”

Henry grins and she actually grins back at him, before seeming to realise it and hiding behind her hand again. She has big hands, Henry notices, finding it hard to think straight.

“A glass of white wine for me,” he says to the barman, “and a Bloody Mary for the lovely lady with me, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

When he looks back at her, she has a strange look in her eyes, a weird mix of sadness, excitement and surprise, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, but not entirely in a good way. As if she’s regretting something.

“God, I didn’t even ask,” Henry suddenly remembers, while having the first sip of his wine, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" She asks back, not missing a beat. She plays with the straw of her drink, never breaking eye contact.

Henry arches an eyebrow at her, but offers his hand anyway, "Henry. A pleasure to meet you,...?"

"Henry," she says, shaking his hand and planly ignoring his attempt, "what a lovely name.”

The way she says it tells him that there’s a great number of other things she finds lovely about him, and his name is the last of them all.

“Thank you.” He says, leaving her space to introduce herself too, but she remains silent. “Are you really going to keep being mysterious and not give me your name?”

“Yes, I think I will.” She says, a corner of her mouth raising, “You choose what to call me.”

“Alright, sugar.”

Her face opens up into a surprised smile. She shakes her head a little. “Really?”

“Why not?”

“Who says I’m sweet?”

“I bet you’re sweet.”

She swallows thickly, her eyes darker. She’s stopped playing with the straw of her drink. 

“You can’t know for sure,” she says, and then adds, speaking very slow and uncrossing her legs even slower: “unless you have a taste for yourself.”

Henry licks his lips. Her eyes follow the movement.

“When you finish that,” he looks at her drink, “I’d like to get out of here with you, if you’d say yes.”

Judging from their conversation and the way her gaze keeps going to his chest, where he has left the first few buttons of his shirt undone, Henry was sure she was going to say yes at once, but it looks like she’s actually thinking about it. He could have sworn they had something going on here. Maybe he’s losing his touch.

“Yes.”

*

She takes his hand as soon as they’re out of the bar, looking straight ahead, as if it meant nothing.

(But it _does_ mean something, her pleased smile confirms that.)

Henry can't resist anymore: he slips an arm around her waist, bringing her close, their noses almost touching. She’s breathing as heavily as him. He doesn’t even see or hear the people around them anymore, has eyes just for her.

“Henry—”

“Please, say I can kiss you.”

She’s speechless for a moment.

“You’re making things hard for me.”

What does this mean, is she already taken? What if she’s _married_ — the last thing he wants is to step into someone else’s marriage, for God’s sake.

“Just,” she breathes in the end, “I have a confession to make.”

He releases his hold on her, because it sounds like something serious. “Yes?”

She chews nervously at the inside of her cheek and it takes her a moment to speak.

“My name is James.” She tilts her chin high, "I'm non-binary."

“Oh.” Henry says, “That’s a very lovely name. You shouldn't have waited so long to tell me.”

She opens up into a bright, relieved smile, but doesn't stop studying him.

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.” Henry says, taking a step toward her. She doesn’t step back. “I’ve been thinking about you as a woman all night,” He says, “should I stop?”

“No,” she says easily, “My name is James. I’m a woman and I’m a man and tonight you can use female pronouns for me.”

"I will,” Henry says, “James."

She smiles broadly, eyes sparkling, and leans toward him until her lips brush against his ear.

“When I said you were making things hard for me,” her flirty tone is back, “I meant it. Literally.”

“Christ, you can’t say things like that,” he rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, “You’re making things hard for _me_ now.”

“I’m so very sorry, Henry.” She sounds delighted.

He places a hand on James’ hip, keeping it a light touch, but still trying to tell her that he still wants this, very much. “I’m dying to kiss you, can I please take you home so I can do that?”

There’s a naughty light in her eyes that contrasts with her adorable little smile.

“You may.”

"Lovely," Henry says, taking her hand, "just like you, sugar."

It makes her laugh, a true laugh this time, deep and rich, she’s not trying to tone it down. It’s authentic and wonderful like the rest of her.

"So, we're sticking to that?"

"You're right, I shouldn't.” He lowers his voice, “not before having a taste to make sure you're really as sweet as you look."

She groans and hides her face in her hands.

"Can you stop being a flirt for five minutes, _please_ , I'm tucked and everything, it's terribly uncomfortable to get hard like this."

"Oh?” He fakes innocence, “Am I making you hard in your pretty little dress—”

"Henry, _please_.”

*

After that, he keeps quiet until they're at his place, for the sole reason that teasing James has a terrible effect on him as well.

As soon as they're home, he shows James the bathroom, so she can get herself sorted. She thanks him by blowing him a kiss and then disappears behind the door with a cheeky smile on her face.

God, Henry is sweating and is already half hard just by being in James’ vicinity and thinking about what’s about to happen. His hands hitch with the need to touch her.

When the bathroom door opens, James slips out of it in a graceful motion and then she's in his arms, her mouth on his, her perfume engulfing him in a cloud of floral scent.

She kisses the same way she makes conversation: trying to take control of it at any given moment. 

She's delicious and feels just perfect against him, her chest wide, her hair so soft under his hands, her mouth— Christ, her mouth. Henry can still taste a faint hint of that Bloody Mary on her tongue, so he sucks it into his mouth, making her sigh heavily. 

He pushes her against the wall. James does a little surprised yelp, then groans, clinging to his shoulders, keeping him close.

"Sweet," Henry whispers, kissing the side of her neck, "let’s find out if your cunt tastes this sweet too."

She rocks her hips against him, "yes” she breathes, “Yes, fuck."

Her lipstick got smudged everywhere, almost comically so, after Henry’s assault. She’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. 

He kisses her lips one last time and goes down on his knees, letting his hands brush on her hips, her thighs. James is strong, lithe and muscular, and Henry wonders what sport she does to have this kind of body and ends up picturing her sweaty with the exertion of working out. Running, maybe? Her legs and calves are shaped like a runner’s. She would be so hot, sweaty and messy, hair tied up in a bun leaving her long neck exposed.

James’ dress got a bit pushed up by their shifting and moving against each other and there’s the obvious shape of her prick underneath it, almost completely hard.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Henry pushes his face against her, kissing her from over the dress. James sighs and places both hands on his shoulders, as if to steady herself.

“Come on,” she begs, “damn tease, you can feel I want you.”

“Maybe I want you to beg me.”

He doesn’t, not really, but the way James moans “ _Henry_ ,” makes him reconsider his priorities.

He holds her gaze as he slips both hands underneath her dress— and discovers that James’ pantyhose are actually thigh highs, ending in a lacy rim.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes, “you’re like, one of my wet dreams.”

James chuckles, breathless, “You flatter me.” 

She places a hand over his wrist and says, “Keep going up. You may find something else that piques your interest.”

Henry lifts his gaze on her, finding her with a naughty smile. He holds eye contact as he brushes his fingers higher and finds more lace.

He might have let his mouth drop open in surprise as he fingers her lacy panties, because James smiles and gently pushes her index and middle finger past his lips. 

Henry can’t help but groan around them.

He pushes James’ panties down (they’re black, lovely), leaving them around her knees, over her boots. She makes quite the picture like this.

Then, he finally slips a hand under her dress and takes her in hand. James moans in surprise -the way her voice breaks on that sound is something out of this world,- and Henry pushes her dress higher so that he can comfortably put his mouth on her.

There’s a loud thud as James lets her head drop against the wall.

She’s delicious on his tongue, filling his mouth perfectly, hard and heavy. Henry sucks happily at her, finding out what she tastes like, what she likes best (James gets particularly breathy when Henry presses the flat of his tongue under her cockhead).

"You're…" James pants, after a couple of minutes, "very good."

He hums around her and James twists her hands in his shirt, on his shoulders.

Henry grazes his thumb lightly on her opening, hoping it’s something she likes and James clutches desperately at him, pressing his face against her, almost choking him. Henry is _this_ close from coming in his fucking pants.

"Yes," James begs in a breath, "please."

Henry is hard as hell and his stupid tight pants are killing him, but he doesn't stop touching and sucking at James, could never stop, not when she tastes this good and every single one of her moans sound so lovely.

He presses with more decision until James' body accepts the tip of his finger. It's not ideal like this, with nothing but a bit of spit to ease the way, but she seems to love it.

"God— stop," James pants after a moment. She pulls at his hair, and fuck, Henry loves it, loves all of this, how she gets a bit rough when she’s into something.

Still on his knees, he kisses her hand, her wrist, breathing heavily, and as soon as he gets back on his feet he kisses her, touching wherever he can reach, palming her ass, grazing his fingers on the nape of her neck, caressing her little breasts from over the dress. James writhes in his arms, her chest raising heavily with every breath.

"I was right," Henry whispers on her lips, "you taste so good, like a little candy."

James groans and kisses him wildly, flipping their positions, so she can push him against the wall.

"I think I need to lay down," she says when they manage to slow it down, "for the rest of this."

Henry nods and James smiles dazedly at him. Then, she bends at her knees a little, letting her panties fall on the floor and stepping out of them. She doesn’t reach for them and looks innocently at Henry, "lead the way."

It's like looking at a diamond: James has so many different sides, all of them brilliant and unique, all for Henry to discover.

She's a little unsteady on her legs (on her heels, mostly), so Henry leads her by the hand to the bedroom, which turns into them kissing every two steps, stumbling over each other and giggling in between kisses.

Once they make it there, James immediately sets to undress him with quick movements, getting rid of his shirt and opening his pants in a matter of seconds.

She gropes at him through the fabric, making him moan.

"I can't wait to have this in me." James groans on his lips.

Oh, that would be glorious, but there’s something else Henry has been thinking about for a while now.

"I'd love that so much," he says, honestly, "but I was thinking about,” he kisses James under her ear, “you fucking me, actually. If you'd like that."

When he looks back at her, her eyes are flaming. She cups his face, "Have you ever been fucked by a woman, Henry?" 

"Actually, I have." He whispers, nose to nose with her, "one of my exes got this strap-on she was really into and we played with it a few times. Turned out I was really into it too.”

James strokes her thumb on Henry’s cheekbone, her gaze piercing.

"You have a bit of a submissive side, you know that?"

"I do." Henry says, "just a touch, though. I don't like to be completely submissive."

"Maybe you haven't found the right person for it, yet." It should be a hypothesis, but it sounds like an affirmation.

"Do you enjoy being the dominant part of the couple?"

She grins broadly, showing her teeth, dangerous like a shark, "When I have the right partner to play with."

She places both hands on his chest and pushes him on the bed. Henry’s breath gets pushed out of him when he hits the matress, because fuck, maybe James really is the right person to do this with. 

Above him, James grins, making an obscene picture with her straining erection badly hidden underneath the dress. She’s not bothered by it, doesn’t even address it, for the moment. Instead, she places a knee on Henry's sternum and effectively pins him on the bed, so that he’s completely at her mercy.

Fuck, she's so hot, Henry is definitely going to come in his pants like a teenager if she’s going to keep this up. He hopes James will be down to fuck him anyway if that happens.

"Come on then," he looks at her, "play with me."

James kisses him hard and pushes his pants and boxers down, quickly, moving down on his body to take them off.

"Look at you," she breathes on his hard dick when she moves up on him again, "what a beautiful cock you have, Henry— ah, no, don't touch it."

She nudges his hand away, like a teacher would with a disobedient child.

"James," Henry says, ready to beg, "touch me, for God's sake."

She kisses the top of his thigh, in apology. The way her hair brushes and tickles on his groin makes him want to scream.

"Lube and condoms, baby." James says, leaving another kiss on his skin, "so I can open you up for me and _then_ I'll touch you."

Henry all but scrambles to get them. He hands them both to James, who tears the little packages open and quickly wears one condom, then puts the other on him, Henry’s hips bucking up to seek more contact without his consent. Christ, he's so worked up.

"Hurry up, will you?"

James smiles, predatorily, "Right away, dear."

She squeezes a bit of lube on her fingers, warms it up quickly and then, blessedly, she pushes into him.

Henry is both ashamed and surprised about the moan that leaves him, but he really was desperate to be touched and James' finger is finally _something_.

"More, come on, I want you."

She pushes her hair away from her face with her free hand and nods, gaze trained to Henry’s groin.

Two of her fingers feel so much better, the pressure not only teasing anymore, but fulfilling, right. Henry bends his knees, placing his feet on the bed to give her more room. He takes a moment to admire how pretty James looks like this, in between his legs, with her hair and clothes in disarray, her dress slipped off one shoulder, her face lovely flushed, and her erection ruining the flat surface the dress creates on her stomach.

"I'm okay like this," Henry pants, because he just can't wait anymore, "if you promise to go slow."

"Of course." She agrees, serious, "do you do this often?"

"Depends on what my partner likes best. I like to switch." He says, “It’s been— ah, a few months.”

She hums, slipping her fingers free. Henry shivers.

He turns on hands and knees, looking at her from over his shoulder, “Easier this way.”

He can almost _feel_ James’ gaze running over every inch of his body, so he waves his hips back a little, encouraging her.

“So handsome.” James says, placing both hands -her big, strong hands,- on his hips, nudging his thighs apart, “such a man and not afraid to take a cock,” she aligns herself with him. Henry tries to steady his breath, “exactly the kind of man I go crazy for.”

She pushes into him and it takes all the air out of him.

His own moans fill his ears as a background noise, his perception narrowed to James' cock opening him up. 

It's been a while since the last time he did this and he kind of forgot what it‘s like exactly.

He buries his face in the pillow, clutching at the covers.

"Tight," James moans, somewhere over him, "God."

They just breathe for a while, almost perfectly still, James rocking a little in order to make the penetration less overwhelming for him.

"Tell me when I can move." She whispers gently, stroking circles on his back. 

Henry forgot he can talk.

"Move."

As soon as she understands and learns his limits, James fucks him without letting him breathe, giving him no rest, interlacing one push with the other in a perfect rhythm that goes up, up, up, blowing his mind.

Henry can feel the hem of her dress brushing and rubbing against his ass with every movement and her glossy mouth leaving kisses on his shoulders and back.

"God, you're so good," James says, sounding in awe, "so good for my cock."

"Yes," Henry pants, "yes, James."

She laughs a little, sounding euphoric. Henry feels it in his stomach, where the pleasure is more dense. 

Every time, he knows this is going to be overwhelming, and every time he’s surprised at just _how_ overwhelming it is, if done with the right person. And James is definitely the right person.

She drapes herself over him, placing her lips against the nape of his neck and whispers, "Can you come untouched, Henry?"

"Not— always." 

"I'd love to push you to your limit." She says, sweet as honey, "until you can't take it anymore, but you still can't let yourself come and you're desperate for it."

"Christ—" Breathing is becoming harder with the way James hits his prostate with every thrust. “Don’t know if I can.”

She doesn't reply immediately, making the waiting unbearable.

"I'll touch you," James decides in the end, “since you’ve been so good to me tonight.”

As promised, she takes him in hand and starts stroking him with slow, perfect motions. Henry feels every second of it.

He’s aware he’s moaning again and again like a broken record, but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to stop himself, not with how good James feels in him and all around him. All he can do is arch his back to push his ass against her, going against her own movements.

James moans in surprise, tightening her hand on Henry’s dick. 

“Yes, like that,” she pants in his hair, “like that, baby, come on. Fuck me.”

Henry bites at the pillow, grasping at it as if it were a lifeline, and does as told. 

In a matter of seconds their moans and pants fall into the same rhythm, like an obscene duet: Henry forces himself to lift his face and look back at James and, oh God, yes, James looks wild and so in control like this, even if she’s panting, even if her long hair is falling in front of her eyes and her lipstick is an absolute mess on her lips and chin.

“You’re really fucking good.” Henry pants and James kisses him, mostly licking at his mouth.

“Yes, Henry?” She grins, kissing his shoulder, “tell me when you’re close, baby.”

She changes her grip on his cock and Henry almost finishes like that.

“God, I am.” He says, “Keep touching me.”

“Or,” James says, “I could stop.”

“James—”

“I could stop and keep fucking you until you’d come untouched, you’d be so hard it would be painful—”

Henry feels like he could cry and punch her and beg her to do just that, all together.

“ _James_.”

She goes wild, bracing herself on his shoulder to find leverage and thrusts him faster into him, “Christ, Henry, you’re so good, you didn’t even try to jerk yourself off, lovely, such a good pet—”

The first spark of Henry’s orgasm breaks him in half, making him feel like his cock could go on spurting for hours, his face pressed into the pillow so much that he can’t even breathe. He distantly perceives James’ last thrusts into him, deep and rough, and her last moan, loud and glorious, when she reaches her peak, her cock pulsing into him.

He can’t even move his face from the pillow for a while, his body feels like jelly and his back is so sore he’s not sure he’ll walk or sit anytime soon. 

Eventually, James carefully moves away from him and collapses on her back next to him, but Henry is still too wretched to do anything, even if he’d love to look at her pretty face some more.

After a while, James breaks the silence (which is a comfortable one, it doesn’t feel awkward and Henry is loving every second of it).

“I didn’t even ask: how do you feel?” She asks, “Since it’s not something you do everyday.

Talking feels like too much of an effort, but he wants to reassure her, so he finally turns to his side. 

James looks like a mess and he can’t stop himself from chuckling. 

“What?” She asks, confused, and when Henry doesn’t answer she smiles too, amused, “what is it? Have I fucked you stupid?”

“I’m afraid you might have.” He says when he finally calms down. “It’s just your lipstick. It’s a bit smudged. Sorry.”

James’ eyes widen in horror and she hides her face in her hands. “Oh my God, I forgot I was wearing it, I must look like a clown at the end of her shift.”

“Shut up, you don’t look like a clown.” Henry laughs, trying to make her show her beautiful -if a little messy,- face again.   
James lowers her hands so that they only cover her mouth. Henry shakes his head, but doesn’t force her any more.

“I’m fine anyway. God, more than fine, you’re really something.” He says.

James’ gaze softens and she finally stops hiding. She touches his arm, gently. Her voice is suddenly more serious when she speaks again.

“You’re a good person, Henry.” James says, “And I had a great time.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” he says, leaving a kiss on her cheek, feeling her lashes flutter. “I had a really great night, too.”

Henry lends her a pair of his boxers and one of the softest t-shirts he uses to sleep in, and when James emerges from the bathroom wrapped in them he has to restrain himself from jumping on her again.

She fits really nicely in his arms, under the covers.

“Goodnight, Henry.”

“Sleep well, James.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- James’ outfit is inspired by [ this Raja Gemini’s outfit ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_f5a9o36MI) (minute 3:34) because i’m gay and i’m rewatching drag race and because james would look SO GOOD in it imo - the quote at the beginning is from _Saying your names_ by Richard Siken
> 
> \- if I've written something that sounds in any way wrong or disrespectful towards trans people, please let me know (needless to say, that wasn’t my intention)
> 
> \- [RT](https://twitter.com/downeymore/status/1365329520472055809?s=20) \+ [reblog](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com/post/644198275466035200/sugar-spice-caravaggiosbrushes-the-terror)! [my inbox](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com) is always open for more prompts!
> 
> \- every single one of your comments and kudos make James wear another one of Raja’s iconic outfits and Dundy tearing it off her ;)
> 
> \- thank you for reading! ♥


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